They were waiting to cross over, the immigrants were. Waiting behind the great wall where the lipstick madonna watched them. And they had their dreams, and they made them come alive there while they waited. Alive in blue with outlines of black and of hope, of yellow and of courage. Because it is hard to cross over. But they want it so much.
Trinidad, she wants it, but not, because it means leaving home. So she leaves a little of herself behind, there on the wall, and she asks the madonna to watch over that piece of herself and over her dreams so they might come true.
Waiting for the coyote to arrive and take his money, Guillermo, too, leaves a sign that he was here. And that he wanted to leave, but just please not his name. Because when he crosses over, he will no longer be Guillermo; they will call him Willy.
And the madonna witnesses it, but she does nothing to help.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
~Madonna by aredsand~
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Never was the intersection between graffiti and pop art more telling than the peculiar juxtaposition prominently featured on the ancient concrete retaining wall running alongside the busy interstate highway.
This particular alcove, which for years has been the domain of crack dealers and skateboarders alike, now features the work of a new artist who shuns the traditional gallery setting.
Preferring a more natural setting, instead, his work manages to combines seamless the talents of a nameless thug with a can of spray paint and a artist with a can of spray paint, a stencil, and an interestingly warped sensibility. Placed against the artist's work, the result transforms the greenly tinted gang-related slogans in cheap paint into found art.
They were waiting to cross over, the immigrants were. Waiting behind the great wall where the lipstick madonna watched them. And they had their dreams, and they made them come alive there while they waited. Alive in blue with outlines of black and of hope, of yellow and of courage. Because it is hard to cross over. But they want it so much.
Trinidad, she wants it, but not, because it means leaving home. So she leaves a little of herself behind, there on the wall, and she asks the madonna to watch over that piece of herself and over her dreams so they might come true.
Waiting for the coyote to arrive and take his money, Guillermo, too, leaves a sign that he was here. And that he wanted to leave, but just please not his name. Because when he crosses over, he will no longer be Guillermo; they will call him Willy.
And the madonna witnesses it, but she does nothing to help.
It's called the poet's wall, and for hundreds of years, young men came here to compose lyrical odes to the lady loves. Under the Nazis, no one wanted to come here, but the Communists didn't stop people, at first.
Later on, the poets started talking, and the Communists began taking people away. That's when the young men came, under cover of darkness, to paint what they admired, for all to see.
Now there's democracy. The wall is still here, but I wonder if people still know what it meant to us, in the old days.
say that triptifonr is a naturally occuring pbyproduct of the Turkey which makes people tires. We thats all fine and good fpr you lightweights, but I'z gpanna tell ya about my very own Alocholic Cluck cluck - See 1st you baste the whoile bird in Jack Daniels f I have had to perform C.P.R. to restore breathing 5 times to 4 different friends and if any of them did not begin breathing again I would be writing this (or not) from a jail cell for manslaughter. My father died of Hep C related complications at 53 almost 20 years after he stopped shooting dope.My 2 best friends (whom happenen to be brothers committed suicide by overdosing on Heroin and Xanan and my other friend megan hung herself oh and we can't forget about Linus, my good friend that shot up battery acid when the pain became too great. I know opiates are a blast at first and it is like a love affair but please think of what comes next. I'm 37 and have nothing but experience.hoile bird in Jack Daniels for 3 days rr untile the alcohol is gome- Then you through that suka on the grill heat heat mind ya and let ur burrrrn. Bheck the bird with a meat thermomter and when iy flavored Jello. Make the jellow as usuall except grind to a powder 1000 2 mg xanax pills. Add the mixture in with the jellow and sugar mixture whiile it is still wet. Let the jello cool in the refrigerator's. Leaving the turkey set out covered to inamorata worth. Thouhtfully stuff the bird with our homemade Jello Pinapaxanaxavilleplii stuffing. Serves 6,7
The fastest way to render your inlaws uncontentious for the holidays.. No doubt Aunt Rose will let you plat with them big old titties once shes uncontious from the Wholly Bird - God Bless Brutthr Love The Tooth Fairt
In 1975 my senior class painted a mural in the poor part of town in an attempt to beautify that section. We were eighteen years old, and full of hope, promise and good intentions.
Every art class would venture out to paint over the cracks, to paint away the dirt. Toddlers would wobble up to us to ask questions, to offer to fingerpaint. Their parents stood by their sides, smiling. At first the gang members gave us a hard time but then gave us suggestions. It was the junkies who never wanted us there. But we kept painting.
We truly thought we were doing something good. We hoped a few coats of paint would turn things around.
Thirty two years later I'm back in my hometown to sell my parents' house. I have to clean it out and get it ready for potential buyers. After spending the day sorting through my parents' lives, I took a break and went to the wall.
Amazingly, the mural was still there. Chipped, cracked, dirty but there. A new playground is nearby and I can hear the swings squeeking and the children laughing.
As I run my hand over the wall, I think about the people from my class and from the neighborhood.
"S'cuse me! Why are you rubbing that wall?"
Looking down, I see a four year old. I wonder if he is the son of the toddler offering his help thirty two years ago.
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